


What Matters

by MisfitWriter



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-08 18:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11087610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisfitWriter/pseuds/MisfitWriter
Summary: Set some time after the Prince's announcement.  Rosaline and Benvolio have since resigned themselves to their betrothal, and have even started to find enjoyment in each other's company.  The Lady Capulet is unwilling to see her niece happy, and decides to do something about it.  WIP.(Sorry, one episode in and I'm already so gone for these two.  Didn't realize how much I adore the whole enemies>friends>lovers + arranged marriage thing til now!)





	1. Chapter 1

“Well, my dear Lady Rosaline, I believe it would be improper to keep you from your rest any longer.  Allow me to walk you back to your quarters?”  Benvolio Montague watched his betrothed out of the corner of his eye, fighting to smother a grin.  Oh, how far they’d come since their marriage had been arranged by the Prince.  Where she’d once looked upon him with disdain, now he would catch her softening and even, at times, smiling when she saw him.

This, it turned out, would be one of those rarities.  She shook her head with affection in her eyes and turned to him.  “You know that I am but a lowly serving girl, my lord,” she murmured, suddenly somber.  Her choice of words brought to mind their first meeting, and his own affection warred with surprisingly personal bitterness towards the  _ Lady _ Capulet.

“ _ No _ ,” he growled.  Rosaline’s breath caught when he stepped forward into her space, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that it might be deemed inappropriate.  His hands came up to cradle her face, and his eyes bored into hers to ensure he had her full attention.  “Your Aunt may have attempted to smother you beneath the title of servant following the death of your parents, but you and I both know she will  _ never _ succeed.  Your passion, your  _ fire _ cannot be stifled by that wretch, and once we are wed, you will never suffer at her hand again.”

“Benvo-”

“And what, pray tell, do you expect will come of her when her dearly betrothed is cut down in the streets?”

The pair spun to face their intruder, Benvolio stepping easily in front of Rosaline and dropping his hand to his sword.  Rosaline’s hand settled on his bicep.  The slight tremor in her touch set his protective instinct racing, and he tried to place the man before them.  “We want no trouble, sir.”

“That is unfortunate,  _ Montague _ , because trouble will be yours.  The Lady Capulet will not stand to see filth like you staining the honor of our house.  Even if it is with a  _ lowly serving girl _ .”  The stranger nodded to someone behind them.  Rosaline yelped, and Benvolio would have leapt to her defense had the man before him not attacked at the same moment.  The clashing of their swords nearly drowned out Rosaline’s cry of  _ “Benvolio!” _ , and it took everything in him to keep his focus on his own fight.  

“If your quarrel is with me, then let the lady go! Lord Capulet will not be pleased if she is killed for his wife’s vendetta against my house!” Taking an opening, Benvolio kicked his attacker back and glanced over his shoulder.  Rosaline was struggling against two other men, one of whom held a dagger to her throat.  The sight had the Montague seeing red.

His distraction was just enough, and Benvolio saw horror take over Rosaline’s face an instant before agony erupted in his back.  She screamed, begging someone to come to their aid. “The Lady did instruct us to leave her alive...but she said nothing about  _ unharmed _ .”  The taunt, too loud in his ear, had panic jumping into Benvolio’s throat. An arm came around his chest to hold him upright and the sword was jerked free of his body.  The young lord groaned and would have collapsed if not for the man's grip.  “I will  _ so _ enjoy taking your little serving girl while all you can do is watch...and die.”

Benvolio was able to keep himself on his feet for several seconds once the support was removed, and his eyes locked on Rosaline’s.  Tears filled her warm brown gaze, and his increasingly sluggish brain registered the emotion in them to be grief...not fear.  Grief for  _ him _ .  “Forgive me,” he pleaded.  The impact of his knees hitting the ground jarred his wound, and he curled in on himself.  His vision tunnelled, and he swallowed thickly.

“No! Let me go!”

“Shut up, whore! Your protector is not long for this world, we need to have our fun while we can.”  Even as a fog seemed to settle over his mind, Benvolio fought to keep himself conscious.

“Get your filthy hands off of me! He-”

A sharp slap echoed through the alleyway, and the soft sound of pain that escaped Rosaline was enough to jolt his system.  Drawing in a shaky breath, Benvolio drew on any remaining reserves of strength he possessed, and surged to his feet.  Without a word, he stumbled towards the distracted thugs. He drew his own dagger, dispatching one of the three men before the others even noticed that the Montague was back on his feet.  The next thug fell to his sword, before Benvolio was stunned by an abrupt punch across the jaw.  

“How gallant...not behavior I would have expected out of your pathetic house.  This time, I will put you down for good, like the dog that you are.  Say goodbye, Montague.”  Benvolio snarled at him, bracing himself for death now that Rosaline only had one adversary to dispatch herself.  

The swift end did not come, though, and the man before him cried out in agony.  Benvolio looked up in surprise just as he fell.  Rosaline stood behind him, a long blade trembling in her hand.  Seeing her poised, defiant,  _ alive _ , the fight abruptly dissipated from his body and left him wavering once more.  Rosaline seemed to notice this, and dropped her weapon to catch him by the elbows.  “Benvolio?”  She eased him to the ground, cradling him against her.  “You need a physician.”

A hollow and weak laugh broke from his chest.  “I am not sure there is time, dear Rosaline. You are safe, that is what matters.”  Her silence registered in his tired mind, and Benvolio looked up to see her staring down at him with fresh tears sliding down her face.  He reached up to brush them away with his thumb, and was filled with a resigned sadness.  “I believe that...we would have been happy together, given time,” he whispered.  

“Though the world may not see it, you are a good, kind soul, Benvolio Montague.  I do not believe, however, that this is where our journey will end.”  Her fingers stroked his beard tenderly, and she leaned closer to him.  “I have seen the might of your stubborn will...use it now.  I need to go and get help, but I need you to fight.  Fight for me, for us...stay alive.  Your duty to protect me is not yet complete.”

It was an underhanded move, but one that showed him just how worried she was for him.  He himself had not understood until the attack just  _ how much _ he had committed to protecting his betrothed...that while there was still breath in his body, he would fight to ensure her safety. Physical or otherwise.

It was that last plea that kept him clinging to consciousness, despite the waves of agony radiating from his back and the darkness threatening to drag him under, until Rosaline returned with two others.  He did not have enough awareness to determine how long she’d been gone, nor to identify the newcomers, and once they jostled him even the slightest, he lost the feeble grip he had on reality and slipped away to the soft murmur of Rosaline’s voice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I'm feeling about all of this so far...please let me know what you think!

“Rosaline, you need to  _ sit down! _ You look ready to collapse!”

 

The woman in question sent her younger sister a withering look.  Of course she was exhausted...it had been a long day even before the attack that itself must have been hours ago.  Even so, the Capulet woman could not bring herself to relax while she awaited news.  She would never forget the sight of Benvolio going lax in the arms of the Capulet physicians she’d summoned; one of them was quick to assure her that he was still breathing, but she couldn’t fully believe it.  Not until he was awake to tease her for worrying. 

 

“I will sit down when I have news of Benvolio’s condition.  How can I be relaxed when he is fighting for his life because of  _ me _ ?” Rosaline lamented.

 

“Then at least talk to me.  Tell me what happened...how could this  _ possibly _ be your fault?  That Montague needs no help inciting violence.”  The way his name rolled off of Livia’s tongue like a curse set Rosaline even more on edge than she’d already been.  

 

“‘ _ That Montague’ _ is my betrothed; if you disrespect him you now disrespect me,” she hissed.  Livia raised a surprised brow, and straightened instinctively.  Her eyes dropped to the floor in unspoken apology.  The surge of anger dissipated, and Rosaline wondered if perhaps she should sit down.  With a firm shake of her head, she resumed pacing.  “We’d spent the day discussing the wedding and preparing ourselves for the changes to come...he was just about to walk me home when we were interrupted.”  She paused, rage towards her aunt washing over her.  “Three men attacked us...sent by  _ Lady Capulet _ to...ensure that we do not go through with the wedding.”

 

Livia gasped, surging to her feet and coming to a stop before her sister.  “Lady Capulet ordered this?”

 

Rosaline gave a solemn nod, gaze flickering towards the door where her fiance lay fighting for his life.  “She ordered me left alive...but if she had Benvolio killed, she could have her way and keep me from rising above the station she’d given us without making a martyr of me.”  She stepped around her sister towards the room.  “So yes...this is because of me.  Had he not been forced to marry me, our aunt would not have seen the need to risk all out war between our houses.”

 

“You have come to care for him, haven’t you?” Livia murmured softly.  Instinct nearly had Rosaline denying the question, but warmth blossomed in her chest at the thought.  Yes...in the weeks following the ordered betrothal, Benvolio Montague had begrudgingly worked his way under her skin and into her heart.  

 

“I have,” she whispered, as if admitting it too loud would shatter the tenuous hold she had on her composure.  “I would not say that it has come to love...but I would dare to say that he has become my friend.”

 

“What is going on?  Why are you up at this ungodly hour?”

 

Rosaline turned at the voice of her uncle, and saw red.  Lady Capulet stood beside him, looking for all the world to be just as confused and concerned as her husband.  Livia stepped easily into her path, hands settling onto her shoulders before Rosaline could lunge at their aunt.  “Forgive us, my lord, but there has been an attack.”

 

“Oh dear, are you both well?” Lady Capulet questioned, placing a hand to her chest.  Rosaline’s fists clenched, and her body began to tremble.  “Rosaline?”

 

“You  _ dare _ feign ignorance in front of me?”

 

The Lord Montague turned to his wife, confused.  “You do not speak to-”

 

“Would you like to tell him what you have done, or shall I,  _ my Lady _ ?” It took everything in her to keep her voice even, and she could feel her sister’s worried gaze on her.

 

“I assure you, I know not of what you speak.”

 

Rosaline could not contain the bitter, disbelieving huff of laughter as she brushed off her sister’s touch and stepped around her.  “You mean to tell me that it was not you who commissioned men to attack my betrothed and me?  It was not  _ you  _ who ordered Benvolio Montague  _ killed _ ?  That...these thugs just gave us your name for  _ fun _ in the moments before one of them ran Benvolio through with his sword?”

 

Satisfaction flashed in her aunt’s eyes before she was able to plaster shock and devastation on her face.  Her husband inhaled sharply, eyes darting between the two women in shock.  “B-Benvolio Montague is  _ dead _ ?! Dear God, are you hurt, child?”

 

Rosaline glared daggers at her aunt, unwilling to reveal the possibility of his survival.  “I was not harmed...Benvolio ensured my safety.  The only thing he was guilty of is fighting for peace in this city.  He was the best of us...the one with the greatest likelihood to achieve that peace.  Have you no idea what you’ve done, all for your own bitter jealousy?”

 

“ _ Benvolio Montague  _ was far from the best of us. He was the last obstacle to the House of Capulet returning to glory in this city.”

 

“Guiliana,” her uncle chided.  Disbelief settled into his gaze. “Is what she says true?”  The Lady floundered for a moment, clearly unprepared for her husband to challenge her. The Lord scowled, face paling. “You have condemned us all.  The union between our houses was the last opportunity we had to end the bloodshed. The Montagues will have nothing to lose without an heir!”

 

Rosaline glanced over her shoulder towards the door. “There is yet hope that he will survive.” She held her aunt's stare with a challenging smirk.  The woman's responding sneer was both rewarding and unsettling, but her uncle drew her focus. 

 

“He is not yet dead?”

 

“Hopefully not for a long while yet...but the physician has not given a report since we arrived.”  She resumed pacing, the feeling of her aunt’s eyes tracking her making the young woman’s skin crawl.  The worry over her betrothed combined with the fury towards the loathsome woman left her breathless, and the concerned look from her sister suggested that her composure was faltering. She was somewhat surprised to recognize that she could not bring herself to care; where she once would have been in complete control over her feelings, this man had left her thoughts unsettled and her heart unruly.  

 

“I am sure they will be out soon, sister.”

 

“And what of the men who attacked you?” Lady Capulet questioned. 

 

Rosaline felt the last of her restraint snap, and turned on her aunt with a growl.  Her uncle moved to step between them, an arm around Rosaline’s waist to restrain her.  “You disgust me! You cannot even deny your vile act...you would rather see an innocent man dead than your own niece given a title!  Those  _ men _ that you sent after us? They are all dead.  At Benvolio’s hand...and my own.”  Her aunt took a step back in shock, and she smirked humorlessly.  “He is innocent in your twisted scheme...but he is far from docile.”  She stared at her family, the smile falling.  “It is improper for the Lord and Lady to spend too long in the servants’ quarters and others will become curious.  Perhaps it is best that you go, until we know Benvolio’s fate it would be wise to keep this quiet.”

 

Lord Capulet glanced between his niece and his wife, and Rosaline could tell that there would be quite the conversation between them before their inevitable meeting the following morning.  She turned her back to them, staring once more at the door separating her from her fiance, and willing the physicians to give her some kind of news.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time a physician came out to the sisters, Rosaline was still pacing in a desperate attempt to keep herself awake.  Livia gently grasped her wrist to catch her attention, and fear turned the eldest sister’s stomach when she took in the exhaustion written into every line of the man’s face.  “Sir Montague?”

“He is lucky to be alive, milady, but he  _ is _ alive.  We have work to do yet, and he has not awoken...but I am confident that he is strong enough to continue fighting.”

Tears slipped unbidden past Rosaline’s lashes, and she squeezed his hand.  “Thank you, Cerimon.  I can imagine it is not easy to set aside our family name to save him, but-”

“Not all Capulets wish the Montagues dead, Rosaline.  You are a testament to that yourself, milady...I have seen Benvolio attempt to keep the peace between houses on more than one occasion.  Besides, I could not bear to see milady grieving any more were there anything to be done to prevent it.”  He glanced back over his shoulder when his companion called for his return.  “Forgive me.  As I said, there is still much to be done for your betrothed.  We will inform you of any changes.  You should rest.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. Livia squeezed her wrist again, standing to draw Rosaline into a hug.  

“He is nothing if not stubborn, you have said as much yourself a dozen times, dear sister.  Now that you know of his condition, would you please sit and rest?”  Rosaline sighed heavily, finally allowing herself to feel the bone-deep weariness left in the wake of the evening’s events.  “Even if it is just here, where you can be woken the moment something arises.”

In lieu of a response, the elder sister drew back and settled herself onto one of the chairs nearest the door.  Unable to hold her exhaustion at bay any longer, sleep claimed her within moments.

\---

Awareness returned to Benvolio in slow-moving waves.  For a time, he allowed himself to float in the peace of half-consciousness, wondering what nonsense he, Romeo and Mercutio had gotten themselves into this time.

Then, a pulsing ache began to overwhelm him, and memories came rushing back to his mind.  “Rosaline!”  The Montague levered himself up onto his elbows, and instantly regretted it.  Fire spread from his back and abdomen and stole his breath, but he forced himself to push through the pain. 

“Be still, Benvolio! You will undo the work we have done! Lay back!” The stranger hovering over him pressed down on his shoulder, but Benvolio brushed him off, jaw clenched in determination.

“Where is Rosaline Capulet? Is she  _ safe? _ ”

“ _ Go _ , this fool is going to kill himself if he doesn’t see her with his own eyes!”  Benvolio held his stare when the man turned back from the door, searching for any sign of deceit.  “You are gravely injured, sir.  I understand that you are concerned for your betrothed, but what good will you be to her if you are dead?”  

Despite the man’s apparent sincerity, Benvolio would find no peace with words.  With a growl borne of pain and effort, the young lord fought to sit upright.  “ _ Benvolio Montague!  _ Do not be an imbecile, lay back down!”  The sound of Rosaline’s voice was a shock to his system, and his gaze snapped to her face...ashen, weary, but with fire in her eyes.  Safe...she was safe.

“Ros,” he breathed.  The surge of strength his fear had provided abandoned the Montague in his relief, and he gave a low moan as he fell back.  “Bloody  _ hell _ …”

“Breathe,” Rosaline murmured, gentle fingers running through his sweat-dampened hair.  He obeyed, if only because it was all that he could to to cling to consciousness.  Once the haze of gray faded from his vision, and the seductive call of oblivion became a manageable whisper in the back of his mind, a wry grin tugged at his lips.  “Only you would find humor in your near-death.”

“Forgive me, milady...I simply find it humorous that it would be my near-death that brings out affection in you, exasperated though it might be.”  Too tired to open his eyes and look up at her face, he imagined the roll of her eyes and twitch of her full lips as she fought to smother a smile.  The edge of the mattress dipped slowly, and despite his best efforts to conceal his pain, Benvolio was unable to stop a wince at the jostling.  Rosaline murmured a strained apology, which he waved off weakly.  He finally forced his eyes to open and trace the lines of her face.  “I am relieved to know that you are safe.”  

“As I am relieved that you are  _ alive _ ...which I fear will not last if you continue to push yourself, stubborn Montague.  Listen to your physicians, they have put too much effort into saving your life for you to toss it away.”

Despite the stern tone of her voice, Benvolio had learned to read his betrothed well enough to recognize the undercurrent genuine concern.  “Demanding as ever, fair Rosaline,” he teased lightly.  “If only for fear of your wrath should I disobey, you have my word that I will comply with their instruction.”  Even as he spoke, exhaustion began to reclaim him.  

The young Montague despised how quickly his weakness was overwhelming him, but the tender affection seeping into Rosaline’s eyes as he drifted off eased the protective instinct lingering from their ordeal.  “Rest well, dear Benvolio.”

\--

Rosaline hesitated at the door and looked back once more to the too-pale form of her fiance.  Despite his frail state, she could not help but be drawn to the firm lines of his bare chest.  She followed those lines to the cloth bandages protecting his wound, and anxiety twisted in her chest.  How had this man come to mean so much?  How had he gotten under her skin so, that losing him would be truly devastating to her?  Cerimon’s apprentice stepped into the room, immediately assessing Benvolio’s injury to insure it had not reopened.

“Is all well, sister?” Livia’s timid voice drew her from her musings, and she turned with a nod.  “Good...His Grace is here...he asked to see Benvolio, but Cerimon refused any others to disturb him.  Prince Escalus wishes to speak with you.”

Rosaline closed the door as gently as possible, took a slow, steadying breath, and followed Livia to where the Prince waited.  Escalus visibly relaxed when she came into view, and he strode forward to meet her halfway across the room.  Livia excused herself to give them privacy.

“Your Grace, pray tell, what brought you here at this early hour?”  It bothered her that he clearly knew of the evening’s events and of Benvolio’s condition; her uncle would not have risked news getting out of the Capulet attack on the last remaining family member of Lord Montague.  That sounded more like her aunt.

Escalus gave her a bemused look.  “You know precisely why I am here, Rosaline.  Were you harmed?”

“No, my prince.  I am well.  Benvolio, though, was grievously wounded.  He woke briefly just moments ago, but I worry that he may have used more strength than he possessed in his fear for my safety.”

“My apprentice is with him now, and will continue to monitor his condition as he rests,” Cerimon explained to Escalus.  Both the prince and the young woman nodded, and Rosaline squeezed his arm in gratitude.  

“Speaking of rest...you must be exhausted after working ceaselessly to ensure his survival.  Please, you have done so much, go and rest.  After I speak to His Grace, I will have your apprentice instruct me how to monitor Benvolio so that he can sleep as well.  I would ask that you are the ones to care for him until he is stable...I cannot be sure who else to trust in this house, and I will not risk his life further.”

Cerimon gave her a tired smile, and bowed to both of them.  “Of course, milady.  I am grateful for the reprieve, and I will return soon.  Your Grace, please excuse me.”  

Escalus nodded to the man before focusing all of his attention on Rosaline.  “When I first ordered your marriage to Benvolio Montague, I can truly say that I would never have expected any concern for his wellbeing, let alone this.”

Rosaline watched him carefully for a moment, trying to discern the unspoken meaning in his words.  “He was willing to lay down his life for mine,” she responded vaguely.  

“Recount the events of yesterday evening if you will, milady?”

“If I may be so bold, who informed you of the incident?” Judging by the surprise and unease in the prince’s eyes, Rosaline guessed that he was caught off guard by her unwillingness to be open with him.  Where once she might have told him anything he asked of her, she now felt an unfamiliar sense of caution in his presence. 

“A messenger sent by the Lady Capulet.”

“Has this news been made public?”

“Not to my knowledge, and it will not by my court.  Rosaline, what troubles you?”

The young woman took a slow breath, considering how much to reveal.  “We were attacked by three men while Benvolio was walking me home.  Two of them restrained me while the third engaged him...and the man ran Ben through with his sword while his back was turned.  Even so, when the men turned their attention to me, Ben was able to dispatch two of them...and I ended the man that wounded him.”  Rosaline paused when her voice trembled.  Recounting the event was more difficult than she’d anticipated, particularly the moment when her betrothed lost his ability to remain on his feet and she’d feared the worst.  

When she stole a glance at Escalus, the same look of shock she’d seen on her Aunt’s face was staring back at her once more.  “Dear God, Rosaline…”

“It was not a random attack, Escalus.  The thugs were commissioned to end Benvolio’s life...to ensure that our union could not take place.”

Guilt and anger replaced shock and disbelief, and morbid relief eased some of the tension in Rosaline’s body.  He was still the honorable man she’d known, he still sincerely cared for his subjects...for  _ both _ Benvolio and herself.  If there was anything to be done to protect either of them, she trusted that Escalus would see it done.  His hands tightened into fists at his sides. “Did they identify their benefactor?” 

Rosaline nodded, and pulled him to sit beside her.  “The Lady Capulet was identified by the attackers, and she confirmed as much when I challenged her last night.”  She dropped her gaze to her hands, fighting back the emotion that tightened her throat.  “Your Grace...I fear that so long as she lives, my aunt will continue to try to eliminate my betrothed, both to harm me and to ensure that I cannot escape her.”  She was relieved to see acceptance in his eyes, not a trace of disbelief or skepticism.  “Ben...Ben is a good man, and I cannot bear to be the reason that he comes to more harm.”

Silence fell over the pair for a long moment.  Rosaline had seen a flash of surprise each time she said  _ ‘Ben’ _ ...so much less formal than the prince had ever heard from her regarding  _ anyone _ other than her sister.  She had honestly surprised herself, but could not bring herself to correct it.  “We will determine an appropriate course of action when the time comes...when Benvolio is healed.  Until then, I would like this to be kept quiet.  I will have my guard stationed here, to ensure that only his physicians and immediate family will be permitted entrance.  Once he is strong enough to move, I will bring both of you to the palace for protection while we work to end this God-forsaken feud once and for all.”

Rosaline could not bring herself to speak, but instead threw her arms around his neck.  Escalus was startled for an instant before hugging her back, and it took everything in her to regain composure as all of the overwhelming emotions of the last day warred inside of her.  The prince drew back, gave her a sad smile, and took his leave.  

The young woman took a moment to steady her breathing before rising and returning to the room... _ her _ room...where her betrothed still fought for his life.  The apprentice softly spoke through the variety of threats to watch for as he healed, and told her where to find him should something go wrong before they returned.  Benvolio remained still throughout the exchange, and Rosaline dropped wearily into the seat beside him.  Without thought, she reached forward and brushed unruly hair from his forehead, disheartened when he did not respond to her touch.  “Please do not give up fighting now,” she whispered, settling back into the chair and preparing for a long wait.


	4. Chapter 4

Rosaline found herself drifting between sleep and waking not long after checking the poultice on Benvolio’s abdomen.  His back would need to be checked when the physician and apprentice returned, as she was unable to turn him on her own and unwilling to risk injuring him further.  He’d been still for some time, the shallow rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was in fact still alive.  Shaking herself to stay awake, Rosaline took a moment to consider their relationship.  So much had changed in the short time since they’d met; where she’d once hated the sight of him, she had since come to rely on his companionship.  She’d been so sure of his ill character then, blinded by her hatred for his family’s name, that it had taken some persuading for her to see the goodness in his heart.  If ever she’d attempted to apologize for her behavior, Benvolio had laughed, brushed it off, and reminded her that he’d been no better.  

The lady was returned to the present when her betrothed began to moan softly.  She looked up, checked his bandages once more, and realized that his discomfort was the result of an apparent nightmare. His distress quickly became more pronounced, and Rosaline stood quickly to tend to him.  Her hand settled carefully on his bare chest (had his state not been so dire, such would certainly be inappropriate...and enticing in a way she was not yet used to associating with her betrothed), and she pressed down when he started to fight her restraint.  “You are safe, dear Montague.”  His pulse pounded wildly under her touch.

“Rosaline!” he pleaded, hand coming around her wrist as his steel blue eyes snapped open.  Despite his weakness, his fingers were tight and he nearly succeeded in dislodging her.  His gaze, full of fear and desperation that stole her breath away, searched the room frantically before meeting her own.  In a beat, relief took over and his grip loosened.  His hand slid down her wrist to cover her fingers, holding her hand against his chest as if to reassure himself she were real.

“I am here. You are safe…” she hesitated, remembering the look in his eyes. “ _ We _ are safe.”  As he returned to full awareness, Benvolio winced and pressed his free hand to his bandage.  His breath continued to shudder, and Rosaline felt tremors begin to wrack his body.  She reached up and stroked his jaw, heart aching for his pain and grief, desperate to soothe him.  Slowly, his breathing began to even out.  “Are you with me?”

Those stunning blue eyes fluttered open, clearer than she’d seen them since before the attack.  “Yes, Capulet,” he breathed tiredly.  She stilled the hand on his face, allowing it to cradle his jaw.  Benvolio leaned into her touch, staring at her as though he were afraid she’d disappear before his eyes.

“Did you see the attack again?”

“No,” he murmured, fingers reflexively tightening over her hand.  Rosaline stroked his chest with her thumb, canting her head to the side in silent question.  Her betrothed took a slow breath, and she was surprised to see the sheen of tears fill his eyes.  As she waited for him to speak, Rosaline wondered if he would be so candid with his emotions were he not in such a weakened state.  Benvolio lifted her hand from his chest and slid his fingers between hers, and Rosaline had to fight back tears of her own.  She was unsure if she’d be able to bear her betrothed returning to his respectful distance when he was healed and able to leave the safety of her room; the vulnerability he’d shown since initially waking up had created a whole new level in their relationship to which already she felt accustomed.

“I...I dreamt of my cousin, and Mercutio, and Juliet...even Paris, and Tybalt.”  He sighed and lifted his free hand from his injury to stroke her arm as he continued.  “They all, one by one, fell off a cliff and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Romeo was the last to fall, and he tried to pull you along with him. Finally I could move, and I caught your hand. My cousin too held fast, though, and I lost you as well to the darkness.” A single tear slid down his cheek.  Rosaline brushed the tear away, and waited for him to continue.  “I would not be able to live with the knowledge that you were lost to this horrible feud because of me. In all of the bloodshed that we've seen in this summer,  _ you _ are the one who need be spared. You didn't want any of this and yet you were dragged into my disaster. For that I am truly sorry.”

Rosaline gave him a sad smile and shook her head.  “It is my fault that you lay here now, wounded as you are.  My aunt admitted to hiring men to kill you...and I fear it will not stop.  It is  _ you _ , Benvolio Montague, who has been forced into the middle of a fray you did not choose, who has done no wrong save fight to protect those he loves.”

“You mean  _ fail _ to protect them,” he retorted, voice laced with a bitter melancholy that frightened her.  “I was meant to guard my cousin with my life, had vowed to do the same for Mercutio...the Lord knows how often those two got themselves into trouble...and yet I am the one left breathing.”  His eyes dropped in shame.  “I cannot count the times I found myself wishing that I had joined them in death in the days... _ weeks _ following the tragedies.  I was left utterly alone, and had to read my uncle’s blame every time I looked in his eyes.”

Though she was not genuinely surprised by his words, the thought of him following through with his wish twisted her heart.  “My dear Benvolio, what happened to all of those we have lost is not to be on your shoulders.  I can say with utter certainty that neither Mercutio nor Romeo would wish for you to join them so soon.  You will never be alone again so long as there is breath in my lungs,” Rosaline vowed.

Benvolio stared up at her, something akin to awe in his eyes.  If asked at a later time, she would swear that there was some force that drew them together until their breath mingled; it certainly wasn’t a conscious decision. When the physician and his apprentice walked in just a beat later, both parties jerked backwards, the Montague with a low groan.  Rosaline felt heat rise to her cheeks, and a twinge of disappointment in her belly.  She glanced down to her betrothed, and knew when she saw the blush on his own neck that she was not alone in her feelings.

“F-Forgive us, milord, milady.  ‘Tis good to see you alert, Sir.  Lady Rosaline, I trust, as you did not come to fetch us while we slept, that there were no complications since we last assessed him?”

“No, Sir, I have recently reapplied the poultice to his abdomen, and found no sign of infection or fever.”  Benvolio watched her with a slight grin, and Rosaline pointedly did not look at him.

“Excellent.  I do not wish to have you turn onto your stomach, Sir Montague, as the effort to turn back over may prove excessive in your current state.  If we can position you on your side, the poultice can be applied and left to dry, then you can return to your back if you so choose.”  The man in question nodded, preparing himself for impending pain.  Rosaline leapt to her feet, hurried around the bed and lowered herself down beside him carefully.  When she could not find a comfortable and beneficial position while upright, she laid herself on top of the blankets and settled onto her side next to Benvolio, who was watching her with wide eyes.  

“Are you ready, Montague?” she questioned, trying to ignore the twitch in his lips when her voice wavered.  He nodded, clenching his jaw and reaching out for her hand.  Rosaline took it quickly, nodding over him to the physician and settling her other hand on his shoulder.  As the men across from her pushed, she pulled, ensuring that Benvolio need not strain himself and pull at his injuries.  He grimaced as she released his shoulder, clearly fighting a moan, and sweat appeared on his brow. Rosaline reached forward and caressed his skin tenderly, eyes trained on his as he clenched them tightly.  “The worst is over.  Are you ready for them to continue?”  He opened his eyes and nodded sharply.  She mimicked the gesture to the physician, and returned her focus to her betrothed right away.

“Thank you, Rosaline.”

As the physician worked, Rosaline whispered to him of more peaceful times, of memories she’d shared with Juliet, distracting him from the pain as much as she could.  They worked quickly, and Benvolio only flinched a few times before they were finished.  “The wound is healing well, I would like to examine it again in a few hours.  In the meantime, if you need anything we shall be in the foyer.”  Rosaline smiled warmly at him for giving the hurting man privacy now that he was awake...for giving  _ them _ privacy.  The physician bowed to her, and both men took their leave quietly.  Benvolio squeezed her hand lightly, bringing her gaze back to him.  

“How do you fare?” she whispered, not daring to speak any louder in the minimal space between them.  She knew propriety demanded she get up, put space between herself and the man she was engaged to marry, particularly knowing how close she’d come to kissing him before the physician.  She knew she should release his hand, stop touching him...but it felt as though if she were to move, breathe,  _ speak  _ too loudly, the moment would shatter, and she was not prepared for that to happen.

“Well enough, my lady.”  His voice was low and rough, and make her pulse quicken.  He turned his hand just enough to settle his first two fingers over the pulse in her wrist, and his grin was a mix of affection and hunger.  She barely had time to ponder the intense shift in their bond before he was overwhelming her with a heated kiss.  

She  _ truly _ should have stopped him the moment their lips touched, and yet...she  _ truly _ did not care to.  In the slightest.  Rosaline responded eagerly, shifting closer to him until her elbow unintentionally grazed his wound and Benvolio spasmed. “Oh! Oh, Benvolio, forgive me!”  The lady clapped a hand over her mouth and rolled onto her back, turning her head to look at him.  His face, twisted in a grimace, was alight with mirth.  

“No, my beloved...it is I who needs forgiveness.  ‘Tis not appropriate for me to jeopardize your virtue, even if we are betrothed.”  He took her hand and pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles.  “Perhaps it will be best if you have the physicians come in...you look as though you need rest, and I will now be unable to find any myself with you so near.”  Rosaline bit her bottom lip, grinned when his eyes fixated on her mouth and he swallowed with difficulty.  “ _ Go _ , Capulet,” he growled.  With a light giggle, Rosaline surged forward to press one more kiss to his eager mouth, and then forced herself up and out of the room without another look.  

If the physician or apprentice noticed her disheveled appearance, neither commented, for which Rosaline was grateful as she hurried to the nearest empty quarters to attempt sleep.  The flutter in her chest and grin on her lips would not cease, and the lady Capulet was sure that she would find no adequate rest until she was wed.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the following several days, Rosaline continued to watch over Benvolio as he regained small measures of strength at a time.  She could tell that the limitations of his injury were leaving him restless; the longer he was able to remain awake and the more he was able to do independently, the more he sought to push himself.  The Capulet lady found herself wondering on several occasions if times like these had once been made easier for him by the company of Romeo and Mercutio.  

Then, he would have had friends by his side, laughing with him, distracting him from his discontent.  They would have known the words to say to keep him from pacing the room like a caged animal.  They would have known how to placate his stubborn pride, wounded as it was.  Rosaline, on the other hand, felt helpless... _ useless _ to do anything for her husband-to-be.  On multiple occasions this found them bickering, the present moment included.  

“If you do not sit back down, you mule-headed clotpole, you will set back your healing and you will  _ never _ leave this room!”

Benvolio was startled into silence by her insult, jaw hanging open slightly.  She crossed her arms over her chest, and watched the excitement of a challenge light in his eyes.  Just as he began to speak his retort, the door swung open to reveal the Prince.  Benvolio automatically shifted towards her at the intrusion, and hissed as the abrupt movement likely pulled at his wound.  Rosaline rolled her eyes, pushing her annoyance to the forefront in order to mask her concern, and ushered him to sit back on the bed.  She watched him for a moment to be sure he would remain in place.  It was not until he bowed his head submissively to Escalus that she turned and gave her own curtsey.

“Your Grace,” she murmured.  When she turned her eyes to his face, he was watching the pair with amusement.

“Forgive me for interrupting. I am glad to see you recovering, Benvolio.  Cerimon tells me that you will be prepared to move to the palace in just a few days.  The sooner we are able to end this, the better.  Your house is starting to fear you dead, and it is causing unrest.”

Benvolio gave a tired, bemused huff.  “You mean they  _ actually  _ care if I live or not?”

Rosaline sent him a glare.  “Benvolio will be well enough to leave soon enough...but measures must be taken to ensure his safety before I am comfortable with the idea of making my aunt aware that he still breathes.”

“Capulet, I will be fine.  I need not be coddled like a child! I’ll not hide behind the Crown-”

“ _ I _ will not allow my betrothed to be placed at unnecessary risk against the threat posed by  _ my family. _ ”  Her voice was low and steady, and the look she gave Benvolio dared him to challenge her further.  Satisfaction filled her when he held his hands out to the side and dipped his chin in concession.  Even in his surrender, his eyes held hers captivated, the fire in them threatening to consume her.

Escalus reminded the pair of his presence by clearing his throat, and Rosaline couldn’t help the flush of embarrassment.  When she glanced up to her sovereign, the prince looked to be in pain.  “When the time comes, send a messenger ahead and bring him discreetly under cover of night.  I’ll not disturb you any longer.”  Benvolio made to stand, but the prince settled a hand on his shoulder and gave him a weary smile.  “ _ Rest _ , Benvolio.  You need not risk the wrath of your betrothed.”  He nodded to Rosaline.  “Lady Capulet.”  Just like that, he was gone.

“Dare I say our Prince is...unsettled by the state of our relationship?”  The Montague’s voice bordered upon smug, and he was smirking up at her when she turned to face him.  Rosaline rolled her eyes.

“You mean the quarrelling?  That is hardly anything new, beloved.”  

Fingers snaked around her waist and pulled her down until she was precariously seated on his lap.  Her breath caught in her throat, and heated blue eyes held her entranced.  “I did not mean the quarrelling,  _ beloved _ .”  The hand around her waist tightened on her hip, and his free hand slid into the curls at the nape of her neck to pull her forward.  

Rosaline had done her best to restrain herself since their first embrace, but she was quickly learning that he kissed the way he did most other things in life: with fire, focus, and intense passion.  He traced his tongue along her upper lip, and grinned against her mouth when the sensation set her blood aflame and made her moan in the back of her throat.  Her fiance drew back just enough to break the kiss, and Rosaline chased his lips without realizing, stopping only when he kneaded the base of her skull tenderly.  

His lips grazed the tip of her nose, and then pressed to her forehead, and Rosaline found herself fighting back tears. She closed her eyes to keep them at bay. “Oh, my sweet Rosaline, you’ve no idea the power you hold over me.  I’d have the Friar marry us today, if I could...but alas we must be patient,” he teased lightly.

When she finally opened her eyes once more, Benvolio was watching her with an emotion she was not yet ready to give name to...an emotion she was struggling to keep at bay herself.  His breath was warm across her cheek.  If she did not distance herself soon, she feared her nerves would unravel.  “What would your uncle say of you if he heard such flowery, romantic promises?  ‘Tis not becoming of a scoundrel who frequents the local brothel.”  She pressed her temple to his for a moment, resting her chin on his shoulder, and sighed contentedly when he resumed his gentle massage of her neck.

“‘Tis very well then, that my uncle has oft been a woeful judge of my character.”

“That he has, Montague.”  The hand around her waist moved to her back, and began tracing soothing likes up and down the length of her spine.  “If you continue like this, my lord, I’ll surely fall asleep.”  She was already halfway there.

“You would hear no complaints from me, Capulet.”

Rosaline was certain he spoke truthfully, but was reminded of his current limitations when she wrapped her own arms around him and brushed her fingers against the edge of his bandages.  “Your back would complain enough for you, rest assured.  Besides, you have pushed yourself quite enough for today.  Please rest...read, sketch, sleep, it matters not...just  _ rest _ .”

He offered her a smile as she stood, fingers tightening around her own when she stepped away.  “Will you sit with me a while?”

Rosaline ran her fingers through his hair thoughtfully.  “Cerimon needs to look you over.  I will fetch some lunch for both of us while he does, and return before he finishes.”  Benvolio nodded and kissed her knuckles, eyes following her as she stepped out.  His words of power and marriage replayed in her mind, and an idea began to formulate as she made her way to the kitchen.

* * *

It took two more days for Benvolio to heal enough to move.  His betrothed had been scarce since the Prince’s last visit, which she attributed to preparations and maintaining pretenses with her family.  In his idle time, though, the Montague could not help but wonder if he had pressed her too far in the moments after Escalus excused himself.  She hadn’t protested at the time, and had stayed with him until he fell asleep, but it seemed as though she were clinging to any excuse to stay far away from her own quarters.

He was not one prone to sitting idle, so his injury had brought him seemingly endless distress in recent days.  Rosaline, though, had provided a source of light he’d never expected.  Confined to a single room, a single bed, since the attack, his mind would often wander to the dark, dangerous places he’d finally thought himself free of.  Each time, though, Rosaline would appear, something like an angel, and gently guide him back from the brink.   _ Oh heavens, if Romeo could hear him waxing poetic for the woman he’d once loathed. _  He doubted she knew how deeply she had embedded herself into his spirit...how much he’d come to rely on her.

She would need only look in his sketchbook to discover the truth.  As of late, she seemed to be all that he could draw; he’d developed an intimate knowledge of the curves of her cheeks, the slope of her nose, the passion so often found in her warm brown eyes.

“Are you well, Sir?”  Benvolio looked up to see Cerimon poised in the doorway, and nodded.  “It is time.  Lady Rosaline is waiting in the carriage.”  Benvolio carefully sat up and levered himself to his feet, unable to contain his victorious grin.  Cerimon looked satisfied with his progress and offered him a hooded cloak.  “Come, you will not be on your feet long.”

Despite his initial eagerness, the physician proved to be correct, and by the time they reached the alleyway Benvolio felt like he’d run for hours.  He was grateful for the small mercy that this pain had kept to a dull pulse in his back.  Exhaustion, though, had his knees quaking as he tried to step up into the carriage.  Cerimon pressed a hand between his shoulders, and Rosaline grabbed his forearm.  With their assistance, he managed to get himself into the seat alongside his betrothed.  He winced at a particularly painful throb, and felt Rosaline’s hand settle over the wound on his back.  Featherlight fingers pressed soothing circles into his muscle and distracted him from his tiredness, and before he knew it they were on their way.  

“Benvolio, are you alright?”  Rosaline’s concerned voice startled him.  Blinking dazedly, he realized her hand was on his face and the streets were not immediately recognized at the Capulet-ruled portion of the city.  

“Forgive me, my beloved.  I believe I simply overestimated the return of my strength.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No, I assure you.  Simply tired.”  He held her gaze for a moment, laying his hand over hers on his cheek, and turning his head to press a kiss to her palm.  Her eyelids fluttered at the contact and her breathing hitched, and once again he found himself wondering where he stood with his fiancee.  

“We are close, you will be able to rest soon,” she murmured.  She gestured outside of the carriage, where he saw that they’d crossed into the palace grounds and were nearing a set of stairs leading up to grand doors...and Prince Escalus.  Benvolio took a slow, steadying breath.  He tried to smother a grimace when his injury twinged, but the gentle stroke of Rosaline’s thumb along his cheek told him he’d failed.  “Perhaps we moved you too soon.”

Benvolio curled his fingers around her hand and pulled it away from his face.  As he held her gaze, he moved her hand to his chest so that she could feel his heartbeat.  “I would not have made it out of that God-forsaken alley if not for you, Capulet.  I…” The carriage came to a stop, and he cursed inwardly.  There was so much he wanted to say to her before she could potentially be whisked away from him by their sovereign.  “I will press on with the strength you provide.  Worry not.”

Rosaline had no time to respond, as Cerimon stepped up to offer his assistance for Benvolio.  She settled her hand on his shoulder, only letting him go when she had to get out of the carriage herself.  As he watched her, his strength wavered, and he felt himself sway.  Cerimon eased himself under the Montague’s arm to provide support.  He was grateful for the silent gesture.  Rosaline joined them immediately, bracing him on his other side, and they had to practically carry him up the stairs.  Benvolio breathed through dizziness, muscles screaming for him to  _ give up, rest, let go.   _ He refused to even entertain the thought of resting until they’d spoken to the Prince and he was no longer watching.

When they finally made it to Escalus, the man was kind enough to lead them directly to a room not far off the foyer.  Cerimon and Rosaline lowered Benvolio onto the bed in the center of the grand guest room, and Benvolio was sure if he’d possessed more energy he’d appreciate the stunning decorations.  Cerimon moved to step back, but Benvolio grasped his wrist.  “Wait, sir...I must thank you.  This feud has taken much from both of our houses.  I know it must not have been easy to save the life of a Montague...but I certainly would not have continued breathing without your expert skills.  Sincerely, I thank you.”

“If there is anyone will be able to put an end to the bloodshed, I believe it to be yourself and your betrothed.  All I ask is that you care for her well.”  

Benvolio was momentarily stunned into silence, a glance to his beloved showing the same reaction in her.  Once he regained his voice, he nodded.  “To my last breath,” he vowed.  Cerimon smiled warmly, bowed to all of them, and took his leave.  Benvolio leaned his head back against the pillow bracing him with a tired sigh.

With him gone, Rosaline sat herself on the bed facing Benvolio.  He lifted his head once more and raised an eyebrow at her when she situated herself so that her hip pressed to his side, as if she could not bear to be separated from him.  In light of her behavior the days before, he desperately wished the Prince would excuse himself so that they could talk.

Alas, the Prince remained.  “I apologize that your travel was not easier, Benvolio.  I’ll not keep you long.  I simply wanted to make you both aware that we are continuing to work on a course of action to end the threat to your life.”

Benvolio nodded respectfully.  His betrothed was not quite so content with the statement.  Her face reflected this, and she straightened her back.  She turned away from Benvolio to face the Prince, shielding her face from her fiance.  “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I cannot accept that.  The answer to our problem is simple: My aunt would wish to see Benvolio killed before the wedding...so let the wedding take place sooner rather than later.”  Shock stole Benvolio’s breath, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest.  He stared at the back of her head, unable to even look away to see how their sovereign was processing her suggestion.   _ Demand, more like, _ he thought to himself with awe.  “As soon as Benvolio has fully healed,” she murmured, finally turning to gauge his reaction.  He hoped that the look he gave her reflected his hope, agreement, and desire to know that she was certain with such a commitment.  Her responding tear-filled nod and smile were answer enough for him as well, and suddenly he could not think of a time when he felt more  _ whole _ .  When the prince began to speak, she turned back to face him.

“T-that will be at most a week from now! Your physician said so himself when last we spoke!  Rosaline, please, do not make a rash decision.  I know you would not see Benvolio killed, b-but what of your desire to end the arrangement?  Would you truly sacrifice the freedom you have begged me to return to you so soon, in the hopes that it will end your aunt’s vendetta?”

Rosaline’s hand clenched into a fist, and Benvolio smothered his own annoyance to calm her.  He reached out and settled a hand at her waist.  His thumb stroked her hip soothingly, and he watched as Escalus’s dark gaze dropped to watch the touch.  The prince’s eyes hardened, and he opened his mouth to comment.

His betrothed surged to her feet, leaving Benvolio’s hand to fall back to the mattress, and she invades the Prince’s space.  He knew that if anyone else had been so bold the guard would be on them in an instant, but Escalus would not order such happen to the woman he’d already caused so much pain.

“I have seen your jealousy,  _ Your Grace _ ...I know of your feelings for me, and your concern for me...but I cannot stand for this any longer.   _ You  _ ordered us married in a time when we could not stand one another,  _ you _ manipulated the situation to ensure my compliance...but now that I have come to  _ love _ the man I’d once loathed? Now, you cannot stand to see your order followed; now, I  _ must _ be saying it simply to protect him...how could it  _ possibly _ be want I truly  _ want? _ ”

For the second time Benvolio was utterly stunned by the woman God somehow deemed him worthy to call betrothed.   _ Love _ . He hadn’t dared hope for such an emotion from her, and yet it came from her own lovely lips.  With a slow breath, he slid his legs around to the edge of the bed and planted his feet.  With caution and no small amount of effort, he pushed himself to his feet and took a step towards the only other two people in the room.  Shaky, unstable legs kept him from moving any further, and he braced himself against the bed’s post.

“I beg your forgiveness, Lady Capulet.  I misunderstood the nature of your relationship with Sir Montague, and I behaved inappropriately.  We can discuss your proposal further tomorrow, once your betrothed is able to have proper rest.”  Escalus met Benvolio’s eyes over Rosaline’s shoulder and nodded to him with a sad smile.  “Excuse me.”

Rosaline spun to face him, and gasped.  “What the bloody hell are you doing on your feet?!” She closed the distance between them quickly.  Benvolio laughed tiredly at her curse.

“Language, dear Capulet.”  Despite his effort, he could not keep the broad grin off of his face.  As tired as he might be, he felt as though he were invincible in that moment.  “You have come to love the man you once loathed.”  A blush darkened her beautiful cheeks, and Rosaline could only nod.  Benvolio took her face in both hands, dropped his forehead to hers.  “Thank God.  And I love you, my beloved Rosaline.”  Unlike their previous embraces, Benvolio claimed her lips with tenderness, taking his time to taste her.  

He could not fully believe that this moment was real.  This woman, who had once been the bane of his existence,  _ loved him _ .  She stood up against their Prince to declare her desire to marry him sooner, rather than later, and was now pliable under his touch.  He tipped her head back slightly, deepening the kiss and eliciting a breathy moan that tightened his belly.  Her own hands clutched at his waist, and her teeth nipped at his bottom lip.  

A wave of exhaustion crashed over him abruptly, leaving him trembling and forcing him to break the kiss.  He pressed his forehead to hers once more.  As he focused on dragging in breaths, Rosaline ran her hands along his back affectionately before taking his hands in her own and easing him back onto the mattress.  As he found a comfortable position - incredibly easy considering the quality of the bed - she sat alongside him once more and leaned over him.

“I look forward to the day when we are not interrupted or forced to stop, my love,” she purred.  “On that day, there will be no exhaustion, no injury, no  _ royals _ or  _ propriety _ to stand in our way.”  Benvolio swallowed thickly; exhausted as he might be, her vow was enough to set his imagination into motion.

“I meant what I said, that I would have the Friar marry us tomorrow,” he pointed out with a mediocre imitation of his usual charming smirk.

“You’ll need your strength back for our wedding night, dear Montague.  The morrow would not allow you adequate time to recover.  Soon.”  Benvolio was only partly surprised by this new, unreserved side of Rosaline; it only made sense that the fire with which she fought should match the intensity with which she loved.  Not for the first time, he cursed his weakness.  As if she could sense his distress, Rosaline relented with a tender smile. Her fingers combed through his hair. “Rest now, Benvolio.  There is much to be done in the coming days.”  Sleep came swiftly, and the last thing he heard before drifting off was her sweet voice humming an equally sweet lullaby.


End file.
